


Shenanigans & Two Idiots

by StrawberrySwirl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America is a cutie patootie, Angst, Breakups, Countries asking for the meaning of their life, Country name canon, Cussing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love/Hate, M/M, Mexico Girl OC, Multiple Pairings, POV Alternating, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Friendship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, When I say multiple pairings I mean some are romantic and some platonic, innuendos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberrySwirl/pseuds/StrawberrySwirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America and Mexico decide to tour around the world in search of true happiness as a country now that they aren't needed by their people as much anymore. Shenanigans ensue but at least they're each other's idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Not so Dumb Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> This is my fanfic, thus I have complete control of what happens in the story. In this story I want to explore more of the intimate life of each country as opposed to the stereotypes and political duties that make them. This story is being written purely for fun: everyone have fun, enjoy it, and if there is something you would like to say, I encourage you to leave a message :) If you would like to see something or read about something specifically, don't hesitate to let me know, I will take it into consideration.
> 
> Story Notes:  
> In the comments there is some information regarding the history between Mexico and the US that I'm using for headcanons. Any actual reference to history or political will be vague (as I'm no expert, nor do I want to make this story way too serious).
> 
> To check out some of my Hetalia fanart, you can visit [my tumblr](http://axiul.tumblr.com/tagged/axiul-hetalia).
> 
> Also, the North America trio roll their eyes way too often. *rickety old voice* Ah, young people these days...
> 
> Enjoy!

The most ridiculous thing was that she used to reject Canada’s invitations to this paradise.

To sit here, with the fresh air, a nice hot cup of coffee, and the beautiful scenery, it was incredible. And Canada was able to do it all day every day. Sighing, Mexico turned to her current companion whose eyes were half closed in bliss, and smiled softly. It wasn’t odd to have the countries laying around, having bouts of relaxation while their people dealt with everything else going on. As the decades went by, their people have started to become more independent, and they countries have been needed less and less.

“It’s weird to see you laying there and not making a ruckus,” said Mexico as she stood up to poke at the fire near their feet with a stick she had sitting next to her chair.

Clear blue eyes rolled and stared at her pointedly, annoyance clear on his face. “Are we going to argue again? Canada is still pretty upset from our last fight,” said America as he pushed himself up in a sitting position and sighed.

Shaking her head, a chuckle escaped her mouth and America turned fast to stare at her in disbelief. Not surprising, it’s been a long time since Mexico smiles or laughs openly.

“We wouldn’t fight so much if you stopped taking everything as an insult. It’s merely an observation, or are you going to deny your usual behaviour?” The smugness in her voice made him frown. Why did she have to stop being all cute and adorable?

“Seriously Mex, quit it.”

“Please do struggle with my whole name. I don’t do nicknames,” Mexico said flatly.

America snorted and said, “Then what are idiot, dumbass, dick, United States—”

Mexico raised her hand and said, “United States is your name, you idiot.” But America rolled his eyes in dismiss.

“I’m not starting that argument again. The point is, Mex is what I’m calling you whether you like it or not,” concluded America without emotion. Which was throwing Mexico off. He usually bounced around annoying everyone, but right now she’d think someone switched him out for someone else.

The air whistled softly as it flowed through the trees around them, making them both shiver in the cold despite the fire by their feet. It wasn’t too dark yet, but Canada likes starting the fire early so by the time it’s freezing, they’d be all nice and toasty warm. Why was Canada taking so long anyway? He said he was going to get some snacks and he’s been gone for a while now.

“Fine, whatever,” she spat. “I guess it’s fine, United States.”

She didn’t expect him to jump off the log he was sitting on and wrap his arms around her to fling her up and twirl her around.

“Ah! What the heck!?” The shout was drowned by his loud laughter as he twirled and twirled with her, making her dizzy. “Stop!”

“Not until you quit being such a party pooper,” he said to her as he began to slow down. “Are you going to quit being a party pooper?”

“Let me go,” Mexico pushed on his chest with her hands, and because they weren’t paying attention, America began to tip back and with a thud the two ended up laying on the floor.

“Ouch, ow. Wow, that hurt,” he said but his arms didn’t let go of Mexico despite wanting to rub the back of his head.

Pushing herself up and away from him as much as she could, she said “This happened because you can’t control yourself,” as if to make a point, but in the end his face scrunched in pain and his hair full of twigs and grass made her burst out laughing.

He pulled on her and crushed her to him as he rolled from side to side with her on top. “Why can’t you laugh more often, you wouldn’t be such a drag to be around!”

“I’m going to slap you with a cactus you dork!”

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Canada spoke as he approached the campfire with two big plates of food.

“Nothing, just playing around,” said America sitting up, then he moved Mexico over and helped her up before snatching one of the plates Canada was holding.

Dusting herself, Mexico said “your brother was being an idiot, as always.”

Canada rolled his eyes and sat on his chair while setting the other plate on top of a tree stump between Mexico’s and his seat. “He’s not my brother.”

“What took you so long?” America asked between bites on the maple syrup cookies.

“Oh, Ukraine wanted to chat, it’s been a while since we talked,” replied Canada, biting into a cookie as he stared at the fire.

Mexico turned to him and asked “That’s good! How is she doing?”

He nodded and turned to look back at her. “Pretty good, she’s thinking of visiting and, um, stuff...” he trailed off, a blush gracing his pale and cold cheeks.

She twitched her eyebrows up and turned to stare at the fire. But then a thought crossed her mind. “Do you still talk to Belarus?” The question directed to America who started to nearly choke to death.

“Um, no. We didn’t end in good terms,” he said as he coughed softly before returning to shovel cookies down his throat.

“How about you and Russia?” Canada asked.

Thinking back on her relationship with the big guy, there was only one thing she could conclude, “it’s complicated.”

They all nodded at the comment and fell into a peaceful silence.

“So,” she began, shuffling back to make herself more comfortable, “neither of you is going to comment on how weird it is that the three of us got it on with the siblings.”

Canada’s face started to turn red, and then more red, and before America and Mexico jumped away because it almost looked like his head was going to explode, the sound that escaped Canada was more of a moan than anything. Both America and Mexico frowned in concern before being shocked by the soft laughing coming from the other country.

“Ahahahaha!” he laughed, and laughed, leaving the other two in confusion.

“What the fuck. I think you broke him, Mexico.”

Shaking her head, Mexico grabbed her cup of now cold coffee and threw it at Canada, effectively shutting him up as he shrieked in surprise.

“Ah! Cold, cold!”

“Sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” she said apologetically, “what was so funny?”

Standing up, Canada removed his scarf and started drying off the coffee from his face with it. “Your comment. It’s so true, I never thought about it that way,” he turned to leave and said “I’ll be back, I’m going to change.”

“So you don’t talk to Russia anymore?” America asked as soon as Canada went inside the cabin.

“Mm, not as often, no. We’re still friends though.” Looking down at her hands, she couldn’t help but get all this weird feelings about Canada and Ukraine. They seem to be very happy, despite the time and everything that’s happening in the world. “Can I ask you something?” She said, turning to America.

“You just did,” he said, the shiteating smile he directed at her made her want to punch him, but she kept her calm.

“Yeah, smartass. I’m serious.”

Rolling his eyes, America went back to laying on the log along its length, his hands resting behind his head. “Go ahead,” he said. “But it better not be you trying to pick a fight again.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes,” he answered without skipping a beat. Which was weird, because he didn’t even take a second to think about the answer.

“Really?” she asked, pushing forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “Can you honestly say you’re as happy as you can be?” she pressed, trying to get a real answer out of him.

“Well,” he twitched his eyebrows as he looked at her from where he was laying, “what exactly do you mean, dude? I mean, I feel happy.” The statement almost sounded like a question.

“But are you happy? Have you ever wondered why, despite our people affecting us, we have feelings and emotions of our own?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he sat up immediately, his glasses almost falling off his face. “You’re about to thread into dangerous territory, Mex.”

“I’m serious, America!” She shouted in frustration.

“Yeah, me too dude. Of course I’ve wondered sometimes, but, I mean…” he trailed off, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “At some point I just accepted that I might never really know.”

She frowned in displeasure at his words. It was so unlike him to say something like that. “But why? I want to know. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, not much makes sense to you, really.”

With a scoff, Mexico reached over and punched his arm and said, “oh shut up. You know exactly what I mean. This time I’m not talking about the stupidity of people, I’m talking about the fact that we get to suffer because of stupid people.”

Sighing, America looked around him, then at the cabin. “What brought this on?”

“Well, look at Canada and Ukraine. They’re very happy, despite going through what most of us are going through—”

“Which is?” America interrupted.

She reached over and slapped the back of his head and said, “if you let me finish, there would be no need to ask for further details.” Shaking her head at him, she tried to focus on the topic. “We are being needed less and less, and while I understand that hasn’t changed the fact that we exist, what are we supposed to do now, live a _normal_ life? How normal can an _immortal_ being live a life?”

“I don’t know,” answered America, despite the questions being more rhetorical than anything else.

“The understatement of the century,” Canada interjected as he approached them and sat back on his chair, clean clothes and a much fluffier scarf on him.

Mexico smiled and reached over to high five him while America pouted on the side. “Really,” he began with a moan, “everyone thinks I’m the bully, but the reality is both of you bully me all the time.”

“Everyone thinks you’re a bully because you are. But now I’m curious, what were you two talking about?”

“I was asking Am—”

“She’s jealous of you and Ukraine,” America exclaimed, grinning as Mexico’s face turned red from embarrassment.

Turning to Canada, she shook her head and said, “that’s not true. I was just wondering what were we supposed to do now that we’re not needed as much by our people.” She then turned to America to glare at him, what an ass.

“Why don’t you ask the older nations?” he said, interrupting Mexico’s attempt at punching America.

“What do you mean?” she asked in confusion.

“I know you’ve been here longer than both of us, but not as long as the other nations. Why don’t you ask them? I’m sure they know, or, you know, have more experience than us.”

“Bro, you’re totally right. Why didn’t I think of that? I used to ask the old fart all sorts of questions back when I was a little kid.”

“It’s true,” she said as she jumped off the chair, making it fall back from the impulse. “Maybe asking around would finally give me a damn answer.”

“Even better!” America stood up as well and turned to the other two excitedly. “It just occurred to me,” the other two groaned, “why don’t we visit them and have first hand experience!”

Both Canada and Mexico fell silent, their stares heavy as both tried to comprehend what America was suggesting.

“What do you mean?” Mexico asked, relaxing her pose as Canada nodded at her question.

“Well, we could go and visit them, ask your questions, and then move on to the next. Like an adventure, except nothing too interesting happens and we’re looking for answers we probably won’t get.”

“Why would we go visit them?”

America turned to stare pointedly at her, “It’s not like we have anything better to do, Mexico.” He approached her and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “You were complaining that our people don’t need us anymore, so why not take an extended vacation!” He tightened his arms, lifting the short girl off the ground.

“Ow, okay I get it! Please put me down,” the discomfort was clear in her voice, but America didn’t do what she asked. Instead, he turned to Canada while Mexico struggled to get out of his grip.

“You in, bro?” he asked with a smile.

Canada stared at them in silence for a while, taking in the way America kept Mexico between his arms in an attempt to annoy the girl before saying, “nah, I’ll stay here. You two go have fun. Like I mentioned, Ukraine wants to visit, so…yeah.”

“Boo, you’re so boring,” he said, then dipped his head down to press his cheek to Mexico’s head and said, “shh, it’s okay. When you stop struggling, I’ll let you go.”

“I fucking hate you,” came the muffled reply from within America’s jacket.

“So, are we doing this, Mex?” he asked with a mischievous smile, ignoring the flushed face glaring at him.

Huffing, she straightened her jacket and crossed her arms across her chest. “What makes you think I’ll do a world trip with you? I’m not insane, nor am I that desperate.”

“Aw, come on!” America turned to her and grabbed her hands in his, bending forward to stare at her the way he does it to England when the other won't cave in.

Dismissing his attempt at being adorable, Mexico said “if you think that look is going to work on me, you’re dead wrong.”

Dropping his arms in defeat, America closed his eyes. “Okay, fine, I’m not happy. I hate it, I have nothing to do and I’m bored as hell. Would you please consider my suggestion so I can escape this torture.” When he opened his eyes, he saw a smirk and immediately frowned.

“I knew you were lying. You dirty dirty liar!”

America placed a hand on his chest indignantly, “you made me say it on purpose!?”

“Like I said, I knew you were lying. I always know when you lie, I don’t know why you even try.”

Turning away from him as if to think, Mexico nodded to herself. It could be fun, they could even, dare she say it, bond over the experience as well as finally get answers to her questions. The only downside was that America was the other companion, but she’s so used to him it might not even be as bad as she thinks.

Turning back around, Mexico got close to him and grabbed his face between her warm hands tenderly and said, “okay, we should totally do this.” And before America could jump in excitement, her hands opened and then smacked back to his face.

As the other winced in pain from his cold skin being slapped, Canada laughed his ass off as Mexico tried to contain the real excitement she was feeling. This could be a really fun experience, and probably the most time her and America will spend together in forever.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed it. As the story goes on, we will be able to see the true dynamic between America and Mexico's relationship. Technically speaking, USA and MX were still in bad terms during part of WW2. So their "friendship" is quite recent and still a little tender.


	2. The Beginning of Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is on first chapter.
> 
> To check out some of my Hetalia fanart, visit [my tumblr](http://axiul.tumblr.com/tagged/axiul-hetalia) (I uploaded a couple of comics reflecting this story lol).
> 
> Note: Always make sure to read the tags :) (not talking particularly about this chapter, but the whole story in general).

‘The most time her and America will spend together in forever’ echoed in her mind as she stood staring into nothingness. Canada snapped his fingers in front of her face, but her mind couldn’t bother to pay attention.

_The most time her and America will spend together in forever._

Why did she let herself be swept into this, she doesn’t know. But now Mexico is starting to regret agreeing to America’s plan on visiting nations. This is what she gets for being such a softie on the inside.

“I know, Mexico,” said the other accusingly, and this time she snapped out of her trance to look at him in wonder. “Don’t even give me that questioning look. I know why you’re doing this, and I think you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

“Canada, oh Canada, whatever do you mean.” The smile on her face didn’t faze him, so she looked away instead.

“Please, you go around pretending to be so mean and bad,” he began to walk around her like a shark to their prey, “but the truth is you’re a big softie for us. Specially for America.”

“What can I say, I’m a great _terrible_ friend,” said Mexico, smiling up at him innocently.

“Uh huh.”

Walking around him, she grabbed her phone to text France. “And you shut your mouth. _I am_ mean and bad.”

**Mx: can america and i crash at your place for a couple of days??**

“Right.”

She turned to stare at him pointedly and said, “quit patronizing me, you ass.”

Lifting his hands in defeat, Canada began to sip on his coffee and Mexico turned back to her phone.

**Fr: binsur let me know date stp**

“Who are you texting?” He asked, moving close to look over her shoulder. Canada had to bend over more than necessary since she was so short, so at the end he just rested his chin on her small shoulder. 

“France. I want to know if it’s okay for us to drop by a couple of days. Starting with him would make it easy for me, I’m not as acquainted with other countries as you and America are. Besides, I’m not in the mood to argue with both America and Argentina,” she squinted at the screen and passed the phone to the other. “Please decipher this for me, your dad won’t accept the fact that not everyone speaks French.”

Canada arched a sly brow and read the text as he straightened. “He’s fine with you guys dropping by, just tell him when. And please stop referring to others as my family members.”

“Cool,” she said, grabbing the phone from him and texting again. “Are you going to tell me you guys aren’t this big, gay family? I’ve always been kind of jealous of that.”

**Mx: soon probably in a couple of days**

Canada opened his mouth but then closed it and looked up at the ceiling expectantly. “I can’t say anything about the gay. But even if he were my papa, then yours would be… um… Spain right?”

“Like I said,” she reiterated.

**Fr: a tt**

Drooping her head in response to the nonsense of the text, Mexico put the phone away assuming France was completely okay with a sleepover.

“Either way, don’t change topics thinking I’ll forget what I was talking about. You’re doing this to cheer America up—”

“What? What’s that?” She cocked her head and turned away from him. “Who’s talking? I swear I heard something.” This was a tip from America, he says it works wonders on Canada.

Clenching his fists in anger, Canada grunted, “You son of a bitch.”

“I’m back!” America yelled, interrupting their conversation as he burst into the kitchen they were standing on, bags of fast food in his hands.

“Ugh, finally, I’m starving,” said Mexico as she approached him and took one of the bags, then she jumped to sit on the counter.

America blinked up at Canada as the other didn’t move from where he was standing. “Uh oh. You look pissed, dude. Did Mexico finally do what I told her to do?”

“I’m so fucking done with both of you,” he grumbled and then stormed out of the kitchen. A second later he walked back in and took one of the bags from America, then he stormed off again.

“You know we love you,” Mexico cooed and then shoved some french fries in her mouth, “emotionally and sexually.” The last part was whispered.

America made a noise in the back of his throat, then proceeded to munch on his burger.

“So, have you decided where we’re going first?” She almost didn’t understand what he said due to the food he was trying to eat, it only took a couple of seconds to figure it out.

“France.”

“No!” He whined, slumping his shoulders in disappointment. “If we go to France, he’s going to call England and then all we’ll have is old man romance arguments and it’s really not as entertaining as one would think once you’ve seen it happen for the thousandth time.”

“Are you going to deny me their misery?” Mexico asked tightly.

America aimed a sour look at her, but budged anyway. “Fine,” he said grudgingly, “but I can guarantee you’ll want to kill them after a couple of hours.”

Mexico took a bite of the burger and inferred, “So both will be there. We won’t be just hanging out with France?”

“Nah, they’re always together. And even if they’re not, he’ll tell England I’m in Europe.”

Mexico pursed her lips at what he said. “Why are they not dating?”

“Because they,” America ate the fries he was holding to do air quotes, “hate each other.”

Looking away from the other, Mexico bit into her burger.

The time they took to ready for the trip was record time, and both were out the door in just a handful of days. Permissions granted and vacations allowed without a hitch by their respective countries.

The flight to France was uninteresting. Both Mexico and America spent most of the time playing Pokemon, something they were asked to stop doing after an altercation rose a couple of hours later. The rest of the way was spent in silence.

She hopes the trip is worth the trouble she knows she’ll be getting with America. True, Canada was right with the accusations, but who would blame her? The idiot is someone she spends most of her time with (whether she wants to or not), and lately he’s been in a weird mood. You know something is wrong when America stops talking about heroes, and bad guys, and generally all that crap he usually talks about.

Besides, despite their rocky past, she likes him. He’s a dick, yes, but he can be a very nice guy, and funny too. He’s charming in his own way, just like Canada is, just like Argentina is. Just like everyone else is.

Plus, she’s already the downer of the group, they don’t need a second one.

“Where exactly are we meeting France?” He asked, grabbing both his and her luggage and pulling them along.

“His apartment in the city. I think he’s already there.”

America nodded in acknowledgment as both made their way outside. They hauled a taxi outside the airport and made their way to the older man’s home in the city.

“Hey Mexico, could we make a promise?” A pinky was raised in the space between them, waiting for her to do the same.

Her brows arched at his question. Looking him over, the guy had the same smiling face plastered, there was nothing she could read on him. Nodding hesitantly, she raised her pinky and crossed it with his bigger one.

“Let’s promise not to talk about the problems in our countries while we’re on vacation.”

Oh no, that’s not a good sign. This means he’s genuinely moping around and not just bored as he claims to be. Mexico was staring at her lap for a while, and America tugged on her pinky, waiting for a reply. “Yes, I promise.” She exhaled while pulling both their hands down between them, it wasn’t that bad of an idea really.

Minutes later, both let go of each other’s pinky.

“Did you know that France actually lives out in the country? This apartment is the one he spends lots of time in because of work and stuff.”

“I didn’t know that. You’ve been here before?”

“No, but I remember him talking about his house in the country. This is the first time I’ll be staying with him while visiting.”

“Aw, are we experiencing a first together? How cute!” Mexico gushed and then puckered her lips mockingly.

“If you keep that up, I’m going to bake you a cake and you’re not going to like it.” America threatened as he tried not to smile.

Doing her best impression of ‘puppy eyes’, Mexico blinked up at him. “You would do that to me?”

America opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it. Mexico smiled wickedly and then flicked the tip of his nose with her fingers.

“Got you!” She exclaimed. “You can’t threaten me with your food America. I’ve eaten what you call mexican food and all I can say is, bring it on boy.”

She didn’t expect him to burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, ah,” he began, trying to calm his laughter, “you look so… You’re so tiny and you act all tough. It’s funny.”

Mexico sneered and said, “just the opposite of you.”

America gaped indignantly at her sass and then turned to look out the window.

When the taxi dropped them off in front of a building they guessed were the apartments, both jumped when France called to them from the parking lot.

“Amérique! Mexique!” He waved his hand and both made their way to him, smiling at the cheery man. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen both of you! Big brother is very happy.”

The older man hugged America tightly while the other grimaced in pain, then he moved to give a hug to Mexico.

“Dude, we saw each other at the UN meeting not too long ago, what are you even talking about?”

Cocking his head to the side, France flicked his hair and turned around to make way to his apartment. “Oh America, that was not fun at all. This time there are no politics involved for a change.”

“Thank the Lord,” Mexico mused as they walked behind France.

When they walked inside the apartment, their eyes lit up in surprise. The table that could be clearly seen from the entrance had food on it. Lots of it, actually.

 

~

 

They all walked further into the apartment, and the first thing America noticed was England sitting in the livingroom. The guy was dressed casual, and also seemed to be irritated. Which wasn’t surprising at all since him and France always find ways to irritate each other.

“About time you two get here.”

“See Mexico? I told you he’d be here.” America turned to the girl with a smile and then turned back to face the man that raised him.

England stood up and walked to them, a small smile on his face. “Yes, well, it’s sort of odd to see both of you not only hanging around each other but also visiting France.”

Both America and Mexico smiled mischievously instead of commenting. With a quick wave of hands from France, they were taken to the guest bedroom in the apartment.

“Wow, it’s so pretty France!” Exclaimed the short girl as she looked around the room from where they were standing by the door.

“ _Merci beaucoup_!”

It only had one queen bed, and America turned to France in question. “Um, who’s sleeping here?”

“One of you I guess. The other can sleep with me,” France said with a wink, to which Mexico grinned, and England scowled at.

“No one is sleeping with you, you perverted frog,” countered England as he crossed his arms.

“I’ll sleep with you!” Mexico exclaimed at the same time as she raised her hand in the air.

America turned to her in shock and yelled, “No! You won’t!” She clearly hasn’t been exposed to France as often as the rest of them, so he would try to keep his grabby hands from Mexico. He walked in and dropped their luggage on the bed, then sat down next to it. “We can figure it out later.”

“Prudes,” both France and Mexico breathed and then turned to smile at each other.

With a blush, England dropped his arms and grabbed France by the sleeve of his shirt, pulling on him. “Didn’t you prepare all that food to be eaten? What are we waiting for,” he said as he led the man out the room.

“Food! Yes!”

They all walked out and stared at everything that France prepared for them. The wide smile in Mexico’s face made America smile, then he softly nudged her with his elbow and wondered, “what’s got you smiling so much? I know we love food but I’ve never seen you smile like that at it.”

“Silly America,” she said, closing her eyes and then opening them again while turning to look at him in the eyes. “I can’t believe you can’t see it. He prepared this food with love.” The words were spoken softly, and he almost didn’t catch what she said, but at the same time he didn’t know what she was talking about.

France turned to grab a bottle of wine and served everyone a glass. He hesitated a little when it was America’s turn, but Mexico assured him it was fine.

“Seriously, we got super hammered the other day. A glass of wine isn’t going to kill him.”

“You got _what_!?” Gasped France in shock, and England’s face turned red as he tried not to laugh at them.

“Nothing, nothing,” America tried to calm France down, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at him and his overprotectiveness. “Way to throw me under the bus,” he hissed at the girl who shrugged and smiled apologetically.

“It’s fine. He’s a big boy, he can take it. I’m older but I don’t look much older than him!” She continued, and instead of agreeing, France reached over and took her glass.

“Then you don’t get any wine either.”

Dropping her hands to her sides, the girl turned to him and pouted. “This is what I get for trying to help you.”

Despite having to beg France to stop treating him like a child, at the end they all settled around the table with a glass of wine, and served themselves food.

America likes the fact that he’s starting to relax a little. Although he never actually says it or shows it, he wishes Canada were here with them. He would’ve loved the food, and the company as well.

As if the othe read his mind, France touched his arms softly and wondered, “How come Canada didn’t come with you two?”

“He’s spending time with his girlfriend,” America snickered. What a loser, he could be having fun in Europe with them, instead he wants to do whatever with Ukraine.

England cleared his throat and added, “at least he has one.”

“You’re one to talk, dude.”

“Angleterre, you idiot. America has a girlfriend, she’s sitting next to you.” France offered exasperatedly.

Mexico’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. “The hell? Don’t drag me into stupid arguments.” America nodded his head at her comment.

“All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t make fun of him, you git.”

Rolling his eyes at England, America dismissed him and continued to eat his food. It’s not that Canada having a girlfriend is a problem. It’s the fact that he spends less time with him now that he has one. Not that he would ever admit that having him around was pleasant or anything. His only friends have always been England and Canada. Ever since Canada, Mexico and him have been spending time together, he likes having friends nearby.

“He’s just jealous of all the attention Canada pays to Ukraine,” Mexico added, shortly after America kicked her from under the table.

He noticed a small smile on England’s face, and blushed. “What?” He asked, looking down at his food.

“I was just thinking,” he began as his smile widened, “I wasn’t completely aware on how close you three have become.”

“Pff. We _have_ to be in each other’s business.” Looking off to the side as if deep in thought, Mexico added, “I mean, there’s me and Canada. And then there’s America who is all up on everyone else’s business—Ow!”

America kicked her from under the table again, staring her down.

She shook her head and whispered, “baby.”

“Anyway,” England spoke again, “I’m just happy you’re making friends with your neighbors for a change. You two seem to get along.”

He grimaced at the fact that England sounded like his dad. He blushed once more when he noticed Mexico’s futile attempt at suppressing her laughter. “Oh, shut it,” he snapped while aiming her a glare.

“I feel like we’re on a date and I’m meeting your parents.” She whispered over to him, and while he wanted to deny it, it indeed felt that way. How embarrassing.

“Why are you two here anyway?” Asked France, and America turned to look at Mexico.

“Oh, you know,” she offered nonchalantly, “just trying to figure out the meaning of life and all that.”

Both England and France stared at them with equal blank expressions. No one said anything for a couple of seconds and then England spoke next, “You’re serious?”

“What she’s trying to say is,” America interjected, “we want to know what keeps you guys happy all the time.”

He wanted to shake his head at Mexico’s bluntness.

“I don’t understand your question. You know all of our hobbies, America.”

Before he could open his mouth, Mexico intoned, “no you pair of dummies. How do we live forever without going crazy!”

“Oh well, that’s easy!” Said England with a bright smile. To which America had to say suited him better than his usual frumpy expressions. “Just do what you love most,” he finished satisfied, as if he had answered the most complicated problem in history. He almost didn’t want to wipe the smile off his face—who is he kidding. He loves doing that.

“No dude, that’s not the answer we’re looking for.” His mouth twitched as England’s happiness was replaced with confusion.

“But he’s right,” France insisted, “as much as I hate to say it. Doing what we love is what keeps us countries happy.”

With an exasperated sigh, Mexico twitched in her seat as she thought. “Let me put it this way, what once we thought made us happy, doesn’t make us happy anymore. Now what?”

The question made both older man tilt their head in confusion. Jesus, it really wasn’t that complicated of a question. They’ve lived forever, they’re bound to know something.

“Then you find other things you love,” suggested France matter of factly.

“What if nothing ever makes me happy!?”

“ _Mon cœur_ , you’ll find something. We’ve all been in that situation, after all, we do live for a long time.”

Huffing in frustration, Mexico decided to drop out of the conversation and finish her meal instead. He wanted to taunt her that he told her so, but instead he looked over at England, who shrugged before adding, “Just try different stuff until your mind is occupied again.”

That picked America’s interest. “Like what?” he asked, curious to hear more.

“Ohoho, you know, mon petit Amérique,” beamed France before continuing, “there are plenty of things you could try and see if you like. Mainly with me—”

“You can stop right there, knothead!” England yelled angrily as he smacked France from across the table with a napkin.

“I’m just trying to encourage them, Angleterre. I’m the one being helpful here.”

“No you’re not, you’re just being a pervert. You always find ways to twist everything into something perverted!”

Mexico leaned over and whispered to America, “woah, you were right. It hasn’t been a whole hour and they’re yelling at each other.”

America smiled to himself as the other two ignored her comment and continued their arguing.

“Your dumb English terms don’t insult me, _rosbif_.”

“Ha! Same with your stupid frog words!”

Oh yes, this is going to be a pain in the ass. But as he turned to look at Mexico again, he saw the joy in her face as the other two argued with each other and thought, _at least she’s having fun_.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT to a comment down bellow:
> 
> I accidentally typed "will be touched upon the story", it won't! I don't know how I didn't noticed I typed that, I apologize. But no, this story won't touch any current topics AT ALL. I don't do that. :)


	3. The Words You Want to Hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is on first chapter.
> 
> To check out some of my Hetalia fanart, visit [my tumblr](http://axiul.tumblr.com/tagged/axiul-hetalia). I actually drew a picture of Mexico and America for this story, I couldn't help myself.
> 
> I had to change the summary a little because my mind went into a different direction with the story, but don't fret, it's nothing too big or significant. This chapter features the beginning of the FRUk (yeeeeessss) but there will be so much more later.
> 
> Also, I was drinking amazing wine while writing this chapter, so expect plenty of chummy stuff.

It took France and England forty five minutes to stop bickering and pay their attention back to the guests.

At some point Mexico started to laugh her head off because of some of the insults they were throwing at each other, which made them snap out of their weird social trance. Her face was flushed and her eyes moist with unshed tears of joy, America noticed.

“Er, I’ll clean up. You two get comfortable and acquainted with the apartment, yes?” France offered, standing up and gathering dishes off the table as if he hadn’t been in a shouting match with England a second ago.

“I’ll help you!” Mexico pipped cheerfully and began gathering some of the dishes on the other side of the table before France could reject her offer.

Without further ado, America stood up and made his way to the bedroom where he left their luggage at. As he began to pull his clothes out, he couldn’t help to think that maybe this trip was one of the greatest ideas he’s had in forever. Not that _all_ of his ideas aren’t super cool to begin with, but… lately he’s been getting small head aches, and running around from meeting to meeting without accomplishing anything (or being heard for that matter) was getting a toll on him. Damn, who knew being ignored now was worse than being on the battlefield like so long ago.

Shaking his head, America put the stuff inside a drawer by the bed and threw the luggage to the floor harshly. That thought was probably born from the idea that at least on the battlefield he felt useful to his people. Nowadays, politics were more about talking than anything else. And he doesn’t mean war at all, what he means is why not get together and solve things instead of trying to look better to each other. Just, why couldn’t they listen to him? Isn’t he the one that knows what’s best for his country, his people? He’s lived long enough to know plenty of stuff.

“And what’s got you so thoughtful, chap?” America turned to see England leaning on the doorframe. One of his hands was resting on his hip while the other one rested limply on his side.

“Oh my God, you still talk like a dork,” America complained, making England blush in anger.

“You idiot! This is how I’ve always talked and will always talk! If anyone here talks like a dork, that would be you!” Breathing out trying to calm himself, England closed his eyes in frustration and then opened them to stare at America calmly. “Really, what’s got you in such a mood?”

“Ugh,” he let himself fall back on the bed. “Life. It’s hard to believe I’m more tired these days than back in the day.”

“That would be because you Americans don’t know how to slow down and take it easy.”

America raised his head from the bed and stared at England pointedly, “I didn’t ask for your opinion, did I?” He deadpanned.

Rolling his eyes, England walked a couple of steps until he was above America’s line of view, then crossed his arms. “Don’t get cheeky with me. So that’s what’s bothering you?”

“It’s so hard to be the hero these days.” The whine almost made England smile. America could be so endearing at the most inappropriate moments. “I mean, I came up with this idea because I need to cheer Mexico up, that way she can stop being such a drag to be around, but at the same time I think I was also thinking about myself.”

He spends way too much time with Mexico, and the least he can do is try and cheer her up, that way their meetings and hangouts are not always gloomy. Ages ago he wouldn’t have cared (they’ve always been close, a mostly antagonistic relationship a previous boss called it), but since they’ve began to put aside their obvious differences and actually get to know each other personally in the last many decades, he likes her.

She’s a cool girl, and also a pretty awesome friend to have—she doesn’t care about the amount of fast food he eats, and she always joins him when he’s playing video games. Sometimes she cooks and invites him over, and a lot of times they drink together in an effort to forget, for a short time, their problems.

At times he would lay in bed at night and think, there was not an instant when they weren’t involved in something, be it a problem or a solution. It’s sort of funny that at the end of everything that has happened between them, they ended up being each other’s closest friend (with _many_ thorny bedrocks in between, but friends nonetheless).

Yet despite wanting to be a great friend, this trip ended up being more about him than her, making him feel less of a hero. Why is everything so complicated?

He saw England raise his eyebrows in slight surprise, but then frown. “There’s nothing wrong if you also do it for yourself.”

America wanted to tell him that he knows that, but still. He’s _the hero_. What kind of hero does things for themselves instead of others?

“Look, it’s okay if you don’t understand,” he said instead, covering his eyes with his arm as he laid on the bed lifelessly.

“Who says I don’t understand?” The older man asked, then America felt the bed dip next to him.

“Um, don’t take it the wrong way, but I find it hard to believe you understand what I’m talking about. Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for your own benefit dude.”

England didn’t say anything for a while, and America guessed that the man was probably pouting. Because America was right, as always (or so he thinks anyway).

“Don’t worry too much, this happens all the time,” England assured him, and for a second hesitated before threading his fingers into America’s hair.

“What are you talking about?” America asked, closing his eyes from the soothing feeling of someone else’s fingers in his hair.

“As time goes on and you get older, you’ll realize that sometimes we hit some sort of evolutionary stasis. It’s just humans taking a little longer to keep moving on with what they’re supposed to do. Time will go on, things will keep changing.”

“Meaning?”

Sighing, England took his hand back and rested it on his lap. “Meaning you’ll go back to being busy and forget individual days exist in no time. Is that not why you and Mexico are here? To find something that makes you happy? Which I’m sure she means something that will occupy her mind. You need to understand, what makes us happy are the things that keep us from thinking we live forever.”

America didn’t know what to say to that. That’s probably what he meant at the table, when they were talking about this.

“Oh well!” America shouted after moments of silence, pushing himself up and jumping off the bed. “Time to snoop around the apartment, I’ve never been here before!” The smile and the one eighty change on his attitude confused England, but he simply shook his head and stood up to walk behind him.

The apartment itself was not huge, but it seemed incredibly luxurious. Which wasn’t that rare, since this was France after all. They went by the kitchen, but noticed it was vacant.

“Where are Mexico and France?” He wondered, turning to look into the living room, which was also vacant.

A laugh floated from France’s bedroom and both looked towards said room sharply. They didn’t waste a second and sprinted, bursting the french doors open, only to find the room empty as well. America swallowed, then made his way to the bathroom door which was left ajar.

Hopefully he isn’t doing anything perverted with Mexico—

Both stared wide eyed at the pair sitting inside a huge tub, full of blue and purple bubbles to the brim. They were even holding a glass of wine each, the assholes.

“Oh, hey you two, take your clothes off and join us,” Purred France, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip of the wine.

“We didn’t ask you because you were busy having some deep, emotional talk,” added Mexico, bringing her own glass to her lips.

Snapping out of whatever that was, America blushed and looked off to the side politely and blurted, “What? No way!” Then added, “and we were not having a deep, emotional talk!” France laughed at his shyness, to which England told him to shut it.

“We can’t leave you two minutes, France.”

“Relax,” cooed Mexico, pushing herself up carefully as to not drip the wine in the water, “I’m wearing clothes!”

These ‘clothes’ that she speaks of were, in fact, her underwear, America noticed as he turned to see what she was talking about. He then raised his hands to cover his eyes, blushing even more, “oh my God, get back in the water!”

“Are you kidding me?” She scoffed, “America you’ve seen me in the swimsuit Brazil got me for my birthday. That swimsuit covers _less_ than these boyshorts and bra.”

“Can we please not talk about that swimsuit,” he mustered as he turned to ask England a question with his eyes. The other didn’t look shocked anymore, probably because this was not a rare occurrence. Should we get in? His eyes said, but England just turned back to the other two and shook his head.

“Just get in, it’s hot and bubbly!”

 

~

 

“You’re right, it is hot and bubbly,” said America while sliding further down until the bubbles were covering part of his chin. “Why did you two get in the tub, anyway?”

“Oh, we were having a nice chat, then she wanted to see the apartment. When we got here, she was so very delighted to see a huge tub and asked if we could use it. How could I refuse such an adorable face?”

“Yes, how could you?” Asked England, mocking the older man and flicking foam at him from where he was sitting.

“Please do keep the foam away from my hair!” France shouted at him, raising himself in order to smack England’s hand away from the foam.

“Don’t touch me while we’re sitting here half naked! As if that isn’t bad enough.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before, or touched you when you were naked before,” France retorted and pulled his hands under the water. The squeak that came out of England made America laugh. “Also, I am completely nude. You three are the ones that can’t handle the body in all its gorgeous glory!”

“Touched you when you were naked?” Echoed Mexico confused. She turned to America who nodded while closing his eyes in second-hand shame.

“England doesn’t know how to handle alcohol, he tends to get naked and run around all crazy when he’s drunk. France is usually the one to take him home.”

“Oh! Um,” she turned to the space behind them where the wine bottle and the now empty glasses sat and filled one to the brim, “have some more wine, England.” She offered with a tiny smile.

“Seriously?” America took the glass of wine and put it back on the space behind them. Her jokes can get a little on the perverted side.

“Wait, so you two are romantically involved then?” Asked Mexico, looking at them expectantly.

“No!” Both shouted at her, then proceeded to continue fighting.

A big splash of foam and water was sent America’s and Mexico’s way, and both raised their arms to shield their eyes from the soapy water.

“Okay, both of you, stop!” Yelled an irritated America, frowning at their behaviour. How sad, Mexico and him were being the mature ones at the moment, and they don’t usually act very mature to begin with.

At this point, England and France stopped to look at him in surprise. France was halfway on England’s lap, while England was holding both of the other’s hands up in the air and away from his face.

He felt a small nudge on his hip, and then Mexico winked at him before moving forward on the tub and saying, “well, I’ve seen enough porn to know where this is going. Who’s going first?”

“Excuse you?” Spoke England, blinking rapidly at her.

Catching on to what she meant with the wink, America added, “I will, England did say to try different stuff.”

France pulled his hands from England’s tight grip and clasped them in front of him, eyes shining like never before. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? Because if that’s the case, don’t play around with my feelings!”

“Okay, stop it both of you,” the stern tone made them pause before moving back to their original spot. “And please, you would have to experience sex with a person first for this to be _different_ ,” he stated matter of factly.

Both America and Mexico blushed embarrassedly. He slid further down in the water until it covered most of his face below his eyes, but Mexico glared at the older man.

“I’ll have you know I’m very well acquainted with sex, thank you very much.”

“Ah, yes,” France spoke up, smiling mischievously, “tell us dear, little Mexico… are Russian guns as big and efficient as people say?”

America blew underwater out of his mouth in annoyance at the turn this conversation took. Great, now they’re going to talk not only about Russia, but also innuendos about his privates.

“Well, sweet, handsome France, he did let me use some of his rocket launchers a couple of times. Maybe someday we can visit him and I can give you a demonstration. Mind you, you’ll be more of the target than the spectator.” The sass was strong, and America smiled under the water.

“My God, can’t you talk about something other than sex?” England stretched and grabbed the glass Mexico served him earlier, sipping it while he frowned at the older man.

“Ugh, fine. So, what have you two been up to lately? Anything interesting? And please, don’t talk about politics or I’d be forced to drown myself.” The monotone he used made Mexico giggle and England shake his head and whisper, "do so, please".

“Well, I’ve been playing lots of video games and football. I have also started to write again, lately I have so much free time to actually sit and think about the plots and stuff. Oh and I bought this really cool tie that has pockets on the back, that way I can keep my phone and stuff in there instead of my pants. And I also bought this cute cat ears that I can control with my mind!”

England, Mexico, and France all stared at him for a couple of seconds without saying anything.

“Did you buy those from Japan?” Inquired England.

“Yes.”

They all went, “ah!” at the same time, confusing him.

“I’ve picked up my old hobby,” spoke Mexico after America failed to continue his conversation.

“What hobby is this, dear? Cooking? Gardening?” France tilted his head when she shook hers.

“Sports, wrestling specifically!”

France screwed up his face at what she said. “What an unladylike hobby…”

If there is one thing Mexico hates, is when people say she should or shouldn’t be or do something because she’s a girl. America saw her face tighten and her eyes narrow, and not surprisingly he expected her to grab the older man and throw him out the window, but instead she calmly said, “nah, you do enough ladylike hobbies for the four of us.”

“She also practices the sass,” added America and then he high fived Mexico.

France flicked some of his hair back and said, “you two are brutal. No wonder Canada is not here.”

America straightened up at the comment, and saw Mexico’s smile falter. If France and England noticed something odd pass between them, neither said anything about it.

They know he’s not here because he’s spending time with Ukraine, but Canada’s bosses have been very rough on Mexico and her bosses lately and that caused some turbulence in their trio. Although Canada himself doesn’t really care much about his bosses opinions about other countries, the two have had serious discussions about whatever it is.

Mexico told him once that it was because Canada was jealous of the amount of time they spend together, which isn’t surprising. They do spend a lot of time together. But whatever, it seems Mexico and Canada are getting along now, so it doesn’t matter anymore. Yet...

“Anyway,” England spoke, breaking the awkward silence that began to brew between all of them. “We should probably get out, the longer we’re in here, the more we’ll smell like France.”

“And what is wrong with the way I smell?”

“Everything.”

They all made their way out of the tub, and into nice and fluffy towels. America and Mexico walked out, leaving the other two in the bathroom, to make their way to the guest bedroom.

“I was thinking, we should just sleep here together. It’s not like we’re going to do anything other than sleep.” Mexico declared, grabbing what looked like her pajamas from her luggage and walking into the bathroom connected to the room and the living room.

“Are you sure?” Asked America as he changed clothes in the bedroom. Might as well put on his pajamas as well, it’s not like they’ll go anywhere tonight, they’re still a little tired from the flight.

“Yeah, I don’t care as long as you don’t care. Plus, as much as I would love to make you sleep on the couch, I doubt France will let you. It seems to be very expensive…”

That observation was probably correct, and France’s possible reaction as well. “Yeah, I don’t care dude.”

As soon as he pulled the sweatshirt on, England knocked on the door and opened it. “I’m leaving. I have things to do back at home, but I’m glad I got to see you,” he said with a smile, approaching him and patting his shoulder.

“Yeah,” America smiled softly, “and thanks. For earlier.”

England tilted his head at him, then turned to Mexico when she walked out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and soft pants.

“It was nice seeing you. You’re looking better these days.”

She smiled at him, then climbed onto the bed. “Thanks, I’m trying.”

“Say, why don’t you two come visit me once you’re done with France?”

“Really!?” She jumped in excitement at his suggestion, pulling a chuckle out of him.

“Yes, you’re welcome to stay over.”

Both her and America turned to look at each other. He didn’t want to do it, but apparently the grimace meant nothing to her because she accepted his invitation.

“Thank you so much!” She clapped her hands once and closed her eyes in joy. America is sure she has no idea what keeps the guy happy is needle work and staring at flowers while drinking tea.

 

~

 

Francis walked out of his bedroom and noticed England was talking to the other two nations in the guest bedroom. He thought about walking in and joining them, but instead he walked to the kitchen to prep for breakfast the next morning. He would be leaving for a couple of meetings, but it won't be until later in the morning. There’ll be enough time to cook something delicious, like crepes. He knows Mexico loves crepes.

“We ate not too long ago,” England spoke from behind him, startling him a little. But only a little.

“I’m not going to cook anything, it’s for tomorrow.” France turned around while holding a flat pan and noticed England looked like he wanted to say something to him, but couldn’t (an occurrence that wasn’t rare between them). “Are you leaving?” He asked the younger man instead.

“Yes,” answered England curtly. After a moment of silence he added, “I invited them to stay at my house once they’re done with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure America will hate you for offering that,” France chortled softly as he placed the pan on top of his stove and leaned on the counter facing the other man.

“Very funny, frog. Mexico happily accepted the invitation anyhow, so it doesn’t matter whether he hates me for it or not.” He said as he moved to lean his back on the edge of the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Meaning what exactly?” There was genuine curiosity in France’s question.

“Apparently he’s here because he wants to cheer Mexico up.”

France raised his eyebrows in surprise, to which England questioned.

“You see, while you and America went off, me and Mexico had a lovely talk as we did the dishes. She told me she agreed to this trip because _she_ wanted to cheer up America,” France smiled at the thought. How sweet of her.

“So they’re both here because they want to cheer each other up?” England asked cautiously more to himself than anything else, but France nodded anyway. His eyes narrowed in wonderment. “And they want to know what makes us nations happy,” he added.

“Maybe they’ve fallen into a bleak mood. I wouldn’t be the first time that happens to some of us while we’re not too busy. Eventually we learn how to deal with those terrible times.”

“Yes, that sounds about right,” England agreed. “Hopefully this trip does pull them out of the blues. You know,” he waved his hand in the air, motioning to nothing in particular, “find what they’re looking for.”

“Oh,” France’s eyes glinted in delight, “I’m sure they’re going to find it.”

Frowning, England pushed himself off the counter and dropped his arms to his sides. “What are you up to?” The tone clearly spelled threat, and France raised his hands in defense.

“I’m not up to anything, Angleterre,” he clarified, smiling softly and dropping his hands once England relaxed. “All I’m saying is, I’m sure they’ll find what they’re looking for. They’re doing this for each other are they not?”

Rolling his eyes at France’s statement, “maybe, remember they are a pair of idiots.”

France was about to push himself up from the counter, but England moved and quickly shoved himself up and against France, making him hold his breath. Their bodies were not touching, but the tip of their feet were, and a shiver ran up France’s back.

England held his gaze, without giving away what he was thinking. He does this sort of thing at times, usually when he’s had a drink or two, so France is used to it (but that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy every minute of it). “I guess you can come along with them if you want,” he uttered softly before moving back and walking away. “Good night.”

France remembered to breathe, then said, “ _bonne nuit_.”

Looking down at the floor, France closed his eyes and whispered, “what is wrong with me.” And that’s not a surprise either.

 

~

 

Mexico was tapping her foot on the floor expectantly. “Just pick a damn side,” she yawned as she hugged a pillow to her body.

America was currently standing at the foot of the bed, trying to figure things out. This would be the first time he sleeps with someone else on the bed, and it seemed weird to know that he won’t have it all to himself. The perfect side would be probably the left. Yes, he’ll go with left.

“Okay, done.”

Pulling the covers back, both snuggled under the covers facing the ceiling.

“You better not kick,” Mexico warned, “it’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“Nah, I sleep like a rock!” He replied cheerfully, before turning to face her side. “Mex,” he began softly, “you do know Canada likes you, right?”

Mexico pulled the fluffy covers all the way over her head, then moved. When she stopped moving, she pulled them down to her nose, so they could stare at each other while they talked. “Yeah.”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure, the face you did earlier—”

“America, even if he didn’t like me, I wouldn’t care.” She closed her eyes and tightened the covers around herself before adding, “it wouldn’t be the first time I’m snubbed.”

She says that, and yet the face she made earlier said everything but. America doesn’t get it, even now that they’re closer than ever, she keeps pulling the I don’t care attitude anytime something like this comes up.

Moving his arm under the covers America looked for her hand, and with the help of the wine they drank earlier he collected enough will and pulled it away from the grip on the covers. “At least you know I’ll always be your friend, whether we’re in bad terms or good terms,” he said as he held her hand.

Mexico opened her eyes and knitted her eyebrows. “How comforting,” she deadpanned, making him smile despite the fact that she dismissed his words.

“I’m here being a good friend and what do I get? Sarcasm.”

“You love it,” she muttered, pulling her hand from his and turning to give him her back.

He wanted to tell her that no, not really. There are other things he’d love instead of her sarcasm, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned on his stomach and faced the wall across the bed.

A long time went by, and as his eyes closed from how tired he really was, he heard a soft, “thank you,” from the other side of the bed and smiled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little information (remember, you don't need to know exactly what's happened/happening around Mexico to enjoy the story, but I do base my headcanons in real information):
> 
> -The thing with Canada mentioned in the story is a parallel to the Wiki Leaks incident. Information about the government of Canada was released, and it basically came down to Canada being jealous of the US and Mexico's closeness. They want to be #1 to the US. (This is oversimplifying it guys. Please google the actual information if you want to read it in its wholeness-- don't take my oversimplifying it as a fact).
> 
> -The stuff about Russia (while it just being innuendos--) it's a parallel to some stuff I mentioned in one of the comments on the story.
> 
> :)


	4. The Approaching Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer is on first chapter.
> 
> Note: Make sure to always read the tags. I tend to add tags as chapters get done, (but nothing deviates much from the main tags which are ANGST, UST, romantic/platonic love, and multiple pairings). Also, this story will become very steamy, so keep that in mind as well. This story is so not serious. This is just practice for me, trying to see if I can somewhat write Hetalia characters and such. 
> 
> I haven't been feeling good these past week, so I apologize if things seem wonky (I wrote most of this while medicated lol).
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Mexico spent some time fighting with her laptop as she tried to pull it out of the bag while holding the towel on her head. Technically, pulling the laptop out wasn’t the problem. She was trying to get her stuff as silently as she could possibly do it, and not wake America up. This morning, all she wants to do is sit on France’s couch and do her work in peace and blissful silence.

With a last hard pull, the charger flew out of the bag and landed on the floor next to the bed. She stared at it for a minute before looking up and checking to see if America was still snoring softly.

“Sweet mother of Jesus!” She jumped back and almost dropped her computer. The other was glaring at her, his face looked somewhat terrifying without his glasses on.

“Will it kill you to make less noise? And to turn the lights off?” He grunted and then grabbed her previously used pillow to smother his face in it.

She took a second to calm her heart and said, “so whiny and demanding, even while half asleep.”

“I would love to be whole asleep,” muffled sass was what she got for her comment. Lifting his face to look at her, America asked “It’s so early, what are you doing up?”

“I’m being responsible, that’s what.”

“Oh my fucking God, we’re on vacation, Mexico. There is literally no need for you to be responsible.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Mexico said, “let me be, just go back to sleep.” She hopes he actually does that instead of spring up in excitement and start his day early.

With a frustrated sound, America dropped his head, he let himself close his eyes and claim sleep once more.

She put the towel back in the bathroom and then brush her hair before turning all the lights off (as her majesty demanded), then walk out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her. 

Not wasting anymore time, she made her way to the couch in the livingroom and then turned her computer on. As she opened her e-mail, she kind of prayed that no work was waiting for her. America is right, they’re on vacation. Busy work was not something she was against, it keeps her busy after all, but her vacation time is not what she has in mind when she thinks of said work. But work is work, and despite the fact that she’s her country's living history, there are bills to pay and all that responsibility that comes from being an independent adult in the world they currently live in. What’s the point of being a nation if you have to work to live in yourself? Preposterous! Plus that makes no sense.

Stupid things aside, she looked back at her screen and there were only three e-mails as opposed to the dozen she gets almost every day. One of them was a document that needed her approval (more like, know what we’re doing whether you approve of it or not), and the other two just needed her signature. Throwing her arms in the air in happiness, Mexico wiggled in her seat with a big smile on her face.

Might as well get it all done and spend the rest of her vacation free. Twenty minutes into the long, boring document, a little window began to flash in the corner of the screen. It was Russia!

Before getting too excited, Mexico turned towards the hallway where both bedrooms were located. She made sure no one was actually awake, mainly America, and then clicked the flashing window open to accept the video conference. With quick moves, she grabbed her headphones and plugged them in fast as the cameras loaded.

She smiled like an idiot when his face appeared on screen.

If only America and Canada knew what she meant when she said her relationship with Russia was ‘complicated’, she’d never live it down (not that she cares what they think anyway).

“Privyet!” He greeted her cheerfully while waving his hand.

“Hola,” she echoed, trying not to look too idiotic with the big smile. “Fancy talking to you this morning.”

“I was going to call you tomorrow, but then I saw you were online. Morning? Where are you?” He asked in his thick accent, making her stomach flutter.

It’s been almost a hundred and twenty years, and it still does that to her. Ridiculous.

“France. I’m taking a vacation because I’m super bored at home. I’m so bored I’m starting to enjoy America’s company, and that’s how I know something’s wrong.”

He laughed at her comment, then stared straight at her. “Why didn’t you say something to me? You could’ve spent some time here in Moscow, you know you’re always welcome in my home.”

Damn it. He’s right, why didn’t she think that first? Oh yes, she was killing time with America and Canada, and then the grandiose idea of looking for answers and having an adventure came to life.

“I didn’t think of that, sorry! Besides, I’m here with America, and I know you to tolerate each other but I have enough passive aggressiveness going on between us two to add one more into the equation.”

“I see. Not to worry about, next time make sure you let me know you need to get away.” He shook his head at her apology then he turned away from the screen to talk to someone in Russian.

“Are you busy?” She asked while getting distracted by the curve of his neck. He called her, but she didn’t want to keep him if he had other things to do. Some are not as free as North America currently is.

“No. But I will be later. And before I forget, I want to ask you if it would be possible for me to spend part of winter with you again.”

“Oh, of course, you’re always welcome in my home! I’ll save the best bottles of tequila just for you,” she winked.

The last time he stayed the winter with her, they had a lot of fun talking trash about America. Nothing can beat talking trash about America with someone who will join in instead of indignantly ask why she’s being rude (in other words, America himself).

Bringing her hand to her face, she covered the grin she had from imagining America frowning and glaring at her. Maybe she doesn’t hate to spend time with America as much as she says, he can be so much fun (especially if you follow along with his stupid ideas) but still. A girl’s gotta keep appearances and all that.

Russia asked her how was her field of sunflowers back home, and then they just talked about random things for the next two hours. It was weird, no matter how long they go without seeing each other, they can immediately jump into being friendly with each other as soon as they talk again.

She always did like him best.

For a second she saw his eyes move to something behind her, and her eyes widened in anticipation. Turning around, she saw France standing behind her, leaning on the back of the couch.

Pulling her headphones off, she asked, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see that you’re still a little flirt.”

Sighing, she turned back to the screen and proceeded to type her replies on the text box under the video.

**Mexico says: I have to go for now. It was nice talking to you this morning.**

Russia shrugged and replied,

**Russia says: I too have to go, I have a couple of meetings to attend today. Maybe we can talk again soon?**

Nodding, she typed back,

**Mexico says: Yes, I would love that :D Have fun! Nos vemos pronto.**

**Russia says: I’ll try :^) пока!**

They taught each other the words like ‘Hello’ and ‘See you later’ a long time ago, so understanding his greetings is not a hard thing for her. Both waved at each other before closing the video conference.

“Exactly what do you mean by me being a little flirt? Me and Russia are friends, good ones at that. So please—”

“Oh Russia,” he began with a poor imitation of the pitch of her voice, “of course we can go to the beach parties, and we can go shopping to get you a nice swimsuit, I’ll tell you if you look good in it. I can continue teaching you how to dance, it’s not as hard as it looks, you just have to hold me closer. I’ll cook enough of all the things you love, last time you ate a lot so this time I want to be prepared.” He grinned at her and then asked, “shall I elaborate more?”

Rolling her eyes, Mexico put away her things before standing and following the older man into the kitchen. “Shut up, why the hell are you listening to private conversations? Not to mention, you’re the last person that can judge me on being a flirt.”

“You were having that conversation in the livingroom, miss, and I wasn’t judging you,” he waved his hand in the air dismissing her comment. “It was just an observation. Are you a flirt to everyone?”

“No,” she answered as he moved around the kitchen to make coffee, “just to the people I like. In general,” she added before he got anymore ideas.

“Anyway,” he said with a laugh, “what are you and America doing today? I have some meetings to attend, but I’ll be free in the evening.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll go out and walk around since you’ll be gone for hours.” Truthfully, she does want to go out and not be cooped in the apartment all day. Maybe they can go eat at a restaurant, and then visit a market, sightsee, or something cheesy like that. They are in Paris, after all. It’s a great plan that will serve its purpose of distracting America from his moping.

“Fine by me,” once the coffee was ready, he turned and began to pull things out of the fridge, “but don’t cause any trouble. I don’t want to explain to my boss why my guest nations are being bailed out of jail.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know the drill.”

Wanting to make herself useful, Mexico washed her hands and joined France in cooking breakfast. All she dared to do was chop the fruits and get the toppings ready. As much as the older nation doesn’t mind her using his kitchen, he likes to do his own thing and move around while he’s concentrated, and the last thing she wants is to be in the way.

For a moment Mexico watched France as he did his magic in the kitchen, noting how handsome he looked making food with love, and thought crossed her mind. What if love does make the world go round? Could that be it? Maybe that’s what she’s missing. Who knows, she needs to make more observations first.

“Is something the matter?” He asked, probably wondering why the girl stopped helping him and went quiet all of a sudden.

“No,” she said with a sweet smile, a consequence of his radiating charm. “But, have I told you that you’re such a handsome man?”

Raising an eyebrow, France smiled and lifted her hand to give it a soft kiss, “you don’t have to, love, I already know.”

“Oh yes, I almost forgot where America gets his narcissistic attitude from.”

“Mexico, we all have to be a little narcissistic. Otherwise, how are we supposed to survive as lonely as we are.”

His words piqued interest in her. She’s never heard him say anything like that before. Generally he prances around talking about love and flowers and everything beautiful in the world. “Do you get lonely as well?” She was genuinely curious. He was surrounded by so many countries! It’s not like her and Russia, with the ocean in between their homes.

He didn’t pause the cooking as he answered, “of course, we all do. Our lives are complicated, no one has it easy.”

With that she can agree. Everyone thinks America is all fun and games, but he has his problems as well. Just because he hides them pretty good behind his silly smiles doesn’t mean he isn’t sad, or lonely. Everyone thinks she’s this overly cheery person despite her deep rooted problems, like Spain, but behind the curtain she’s just done with everyone’s bullshit.

“Is love what makes you happy?”

France paused before he spoke again. “Yes. I like love, I like to give love and to receive love. Love is everything to me,” he smiled softly.

“Have you ever loved another nation? Or do you just love humans?” The second part was added in order to poke fun at him, but he didn’t even hitch on his fluid cooking.

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t. But tell me, Mexico, have you ever loved another nation?” He echoed the question, turning to smile at her.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “no, and I don’t plan to. You’re all a bunch of backstabbing assholes. Except for a couple that have been only good to me.”

“I know, that’s why I mostly love humans.”

Oh.

“France!” Mexico jumped up and hugged the man from behind. He began to laugh and she moved back, giving him space once more. “I get it. I see why you spend your precious time with humans.”

The fact that he could go around doing stuff with humans was not rare for nations, but many prefer to be alone, and a few others take what they can get from other nations instead of the heartache that was human life span.

“What can I say, humans are lovely creatures. As the country of love, I tend to fall in love with anything pretty and beautiful.”

At this moment, America decided to walk into the kitchen and snatch a piece of fruit Mexico cut up earlier. “Morning dudes,” he said while chewing. “What are you talking about?”

“France was saying he falls in love with cute things.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hey! Tell us what’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen!” Mexico said excitedly, diverting the conversation from the serious tones. “And don’t say yourself,” she added quickly before he could answer.

“Yeah dude! I’m curious, you kind of hit on everything…” America turned to Mexico and pulled his tongue out, making her smile.

France looked up to the ceiling in thought. His face relaxed visibly before his cheeks began to turn pink. His hand went up to hold his face as he closed his eyes in concentration. “Ah, tellement mignon,” he whispered to himself as he shook his head and smiled dreamily.

The other two nations stared at him the whole time, wondering what the other was thinking for him to get lost in thought for a while. “Wow, I’m amazed,” spoke Mexico.

“Why?”

She turned to look at America and smiled, “his attention span is shorter than yours.”

“Hilarious.” America deadpanned.

Snapping out of his trance, France cleared his throat and turned to them, “I guess there’s no problem in telling you that the cutest thing I’ve ever seen is a little Angleterre.”

“Eh!?” The taller nation exclaimed, shock written on his face.

“What, really!? Was he very adorable?” Mexico’s eyes glinted with joy as she moved closer to him. But instead of an answer, she got France’s hand on her face, pushing her back.

“If I say anything else, he might beat me up and I don’t want that to happen.”

“What? No, no, we won’t tell, I promise!” Her smile widened.

“Wait.” Both France and Mexico turned to look at America. “Does that mean you fell in love with the old man?” He asked, sneaking another piece of fruit from the counter.

Mexico’s eyes widened in excitement and then turned to look at France. This was getting better and better. There is nothing she loves more than love stories. Yes, it’s shameful, but she’s a sucker for romance and all the flip flopping stomach delight. Personally she’s never really experienced anything like it (Russia doesn’t count—he’s just a silly crush, more like neverending admiration), and sometimes as she watches novelas or movies, she wishes she could experience something like that. For now all she can do is enjoy it when it happens to someone else.

The older man shrugged, and America grabbed him by the shoulders and began to shake him from side to side. “Now you have to tell me, My curiosity is killing me!”

“Stop that!” France whined and pushed the other away from him. “You’re such a barbarian, can’t you see I’m delicate,” he chided him, straightening his shirt. “There is nothing to say,” but the small blush on his cheeks told Mexico a completely different story.

Lifting an eyebrow, she thought to herself, could it be? Is she truly witnessing France with a crush? This felt so out of this world. France is probably the last person she imagined would blush at a stupid question such as the one America asked. Which could only mean one thing, he probably still holds feelings for England. Why would it bother him if not? He also hasn’t denied it.

“Let’s just go ahead and eat, I have to leave soon,” he said instead, turning to finish whatever he had been doing.

 

~

 

France can deny it all he wants, but America is not stupid. He saw right through him, just like he saw right through Germany when it came to Italy.

Who would’ve thought! They certainly do a good job at pretending to hate each other. And to think that this whole time France—

Wait.

France was reluctant in telling them about it, and they do act like they really hate each other. So this could potentially be a case of unrequited love.

Oh.

That’s not good. But then again, as much as England likes to act mean and brash to France, he sure cares a lot about him. Sort of how he is with him. England constantly berates him and makes fun of him (and let’s not forget, sides with France in treating him like a child at times just to be an ass), yet he’d do stuff to try and help him and make him happy.

He turned to look at Mexico who was now walking out of the bedroom dressed appropriately for the walk they’re going to take (It was getting chilly outside, light jackets would be necessary).

“I think France loves England,” he said casually, making the girl stop on her tracks.

“I know!” She shouted excitedly, but then cleared her throat trying to calm herself down, “I mean, I could see that too. I wonder why he acted that way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he is the country of love, America. When have you not seen him without a girl or a guy on his arm? Or charmingly flirting with someone? Or trying to woo a nation—”

“I get it, get to the point,” he interrupted her abruptly, motioning for them to walk out the door and get out of the apartment.

“I don’t know, I mean it’s sort of weird that he would act so coy about the whole thing...you know what, forget it.” She smiled up at him and started walking a little faster.

With a frustrated sound, America stretched his legs a little more and then got in step with her. “Don’t just walk away, tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded as he shoved his hands inside his pockets.

The wind was blowing cold, and his nose tickled with the smells of the earth, the grass, and the falling leafs. Mexico’s hair was moving around, and then it flipped back as she turned to walk backwards while looking at him.

“I just don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about it.”

Frowning, America crossed his arms across his chest. “Really? That’s inappropriate?”

Nodding, Mexico said, “it’s about love. That stuff shouldn’t be talked about, we don’t want to jinx anything!”

America laughed and shook his head. “Nothing bad will happen if we talk about it. Besides, I think it’ll be good for them if it’s true.” Happy endings should be for everyone, the two old men included.

The girl didn’t say anything afterwards, and both made their way to the more visited areas in Paris.

They walked in peaceful silence for what felt like hours. Eventually they decided to spend some time at a park near the Notre-Dame Cathedral. Looking around, he saw a big amount of people sightseeing, but not as many as he thought they’d be. He turned to look at Mexico, and he smiled as she stared at the building in the distance.

“God, you and your love for buildings is weird.”

“I can’t help it, architecture is so beautiful.”

She’s wasn’t wrong, he could appreciate beautiful architecture as well.

More silence fell between them after that short conversation. He didn’t mind, he could appreciate silence as well. Although he’d rather be listening to music, or talking about something, silence is good for you once in a while. It was nice thought, to sit here and not do anything. But he really wanted to talk, so he moved to lay on his stomach on the grass and then began to poke Mexico.

“I’m bored. I want to talk or something,” he muttered against his forearm, his other hand now absently pulling grass.

“Can’t you enjoy a little bit of silence?” She asked annoyed. Sighing, Mexico turned and imitated his position on the grass, but she crossed her arms under her chin and stared directly at him. “Okay,” she said, “talk.”

“Hmm,” America took a second to come up with something to talk about, but at the moment his mind was still stuck on happy endings. “What would be your happy ending?” He asked, not daring to look at her in the eyes. Why? Who knows, he felt sort of embarrassed to ask such question.

They’re close friends, yes, sort of nemesis (that term is so dramatic France would be so proud of him), yes, but they don’t know much about each other’s intimate thoughts. Well, she’s not shy about some _intimate_ details of her life, that’s not the type of intimate he’s talking about. He’s never heard her talk about dreams and wants and all that sappy stuff.

Mexico raised her eyebrows at the question, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, if you want to tell me, I’d like to know.”

“Why?” She sounds guarded.

“I’m curious?” In a way he understands why she sounds guarded.

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath as she thought about the question. America decided to take the moment and think about his own answer to the question. If he were to have a happy ending, what would it be? Probably endless delicious American food, and good movies that never end. Oh God, endless cool video games would be awesome too. But, at the same time he’d like someone to share them with (at least someone who’s not Tony). 

Bromance is good and all, but, maybe another person that’s not grey and half his size would be ideal.

“I mean, I guess we all at some point wish we were human,” she begins, opening her eyes to stare at him again.

Yes, not that he himself has thought about it much before. He knows other nations do talk about it sometimes, not extensively since it’s sort of a taboo, but it’s not that rare of a thought. Either way, that’s not what he’s asking for.

“But if you could have anything as your happy ending, what would it be?”

“Probably a—” She stopped her sentence and looked at him sharply. “Don’t you dare make fun of me,” she warned.

America shook his head and said, “no dude, I’m serious.”

“Maybe falling in love would be great,” she began, “but not just fall in love. More like, find your soulmate. Someone who will always love you, and care for you. And anytime you’re lonely, you know there’s someone you can go to.”

He opened his mouth to voice how cliche that sounded (yet at the same time he thinks the same way), but her eyes glinted with determination and she continued her rant.

“I’ll meet his family, and they’ll hate me. We will see each other in secret, but then he’ll be forced into marriage for money, because that’s all his family cares about. His evil mom will find out we’re dating and will send an evil international hitman to kill me. But unbeknownst to her, I’m a kick ass secret wrestler that fights crime. My plan is to kill the hitman with my bare hands, but he ends up being dazzled by my cleverness and me by his beauty. So instead, he decides to be suave and ask me out. I feel some sort of connection to him so I agree. We go out multiple times, and we find out we belong together. It only takes a couple of months for us to get hitched and rule the world as the ultimate badasses.”

He blinked slowly, processing what he just heard. He was going to clap because the story sounds like a pretty cool idea for a movie, but then he realized she ends up with the bad guy. “Your story makes no sense, you fight crime!”

Rolling her eyes, Mexico says, “it doesn’t matter. I’m his soulmate, I’m not going to judge him.”

“That’s not… I’m…” He was so confused. “You’re so weird,” he ended up saying.

“I’m kidding. My happy ending would be… a zombie apocalypse.”

America rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the statement. First of all, everyone’s happy ending would be a zombie apocalypse, if they wanted their life as a cool action movie. Second, she was clearly trying to divert the conversation, meaning she didn’t want to talk about it. But instead of telling him to shut up, she goes off in a different tangent.

“Well, my happy ending would be to be the best hero in the world!” He smiled wide as his arms went up in excitement.

The shutter of a camera was heard and he turned to look at Mexico taking a picture with her phone.

“Why did you take a picture?”

She was now typing around on the phone. “I’m sending this to Canada to show him I don’t suck as much as he thinks,” she said absentmindedly, not noticing the look he aimed at her.

“Suck at what?” He asked curiously, wondering why his bro and his friend didn’t let him in on whatever she’s talking about.

“Oh, you know, stuff,” a slight blush appeared on her face making him wonder even more.

“Just tell me!” He hates it when she does that. Why not just tell him?

“Nothing!” She yelled at him, a small frown adorning her blushing face, “you want to go back now?”

“Sure. I’m getting hungry anyway,” he said as they stood up, patting off grass from their clothes.

America wasn’t able to get anything serious out of the girl, so what? Maybe tomorrow he’ll try to get information out of her. He was more than curious now, the more Mexico refuses to let him in on her private life, the more he wants to be in.

Thinking fast, he pulled his own phone out and opened the camera. “Mex, come here,” he said, motioning with his hand for her to join him at his side.

She did so reluctantly, knowing exactly what he was going to do. “You and your selfies,” she muttered but smiled at the camera nonetheless.

Bending down, he grinned and took a picture of both of them.

 


End file.
